Up to No Good
by G. Callaghan
Summary: What happened before James Potter got Lily Evans - and how exactly did he get her? A lot went on while the Marauders and their classmates were at school. Here are the stories of the Hogwarts class of 1978.
1. Chapter 1

(A/N) Obviously, everything belongs to the lovely JK Rowling. This is the very first fanfic I've ever written and any reviews whatsoever would just mean the world to me.

1.

It wasn't yet three weeks into September but there was a homey fire on the Gryffindor common room's fireplace and the flickering flames projected purplish shadows over the many students that gathered around the sofas and various armchairs of the room. It was already dark outside the high-framed crystals and a rather furious late-summer storm made it impossible to see as far as the forest that stretched behind the dark lawns that surrounded the castle. Over in a corner besides a window, their ties undone and their hair dishevelled after a tenuous day of lessons, sat three girls huddled together in what appeared to be carefree chit chatter.

'I reckon McGonagall's trying to do us off. I am positive not one of us, not one I say, can possibly figure out what that essay she assigned today is about. I've absolutely no sodding clue.' said one of the girls. She had deep brown, slightly wavy hair that almost covered her eyes with a fringe. Her irises were the palest shade of blue, almost transparent, and she had an angelic look about her that clashed radically with the fast, histrionic way in which she spoke. 'Well, bloody _Potter_ could probably be done with it in around thirty seconds, but that means nothing – we are six years in and have yet to find something the prick cannot do. No offense there, Dearborn.'

'I'm not offended.' answered the girl besides her, leaning her head back into the windowsill. She was sitting cross-legged on a worn, velvet crimson cushion on the floor and she did not turn her eyes from whatever she was gazing at through the window as she spoke. Her voice was low and soft, harsh yet appealing.

'Well, you two are sort of related. With your mums being best friends and all, I mean. I never quite understood why your brother and he aren't friends - you do see each other _all the time _when you are back in Godric's Hollow.'

'I can answer that for you, Mary.' intervened the third girl, sneering. 'While Declan is a decently lovely bloke, Potter is an arrogant, megalomaniacal git and I can easily see why they wouldn't have much in common.'

'Blimey, Evans. Merely wondering why Declan and Potter aren't practically lovers like Potter and Black are. No need to give you heart failure.' said Mary Macdonald mockingly.

Lily Evans rolled her eyes at the smirking girl and huffed loudly. She was tired, exhausted even, and she did not need to discuss James Potter when he was the very cause of her weariness. She hoisted her dark red hair up and twisted it around, the recoiling strands holding up unaided at the crown of her head. She tightened her grip on the small, folded piece of parchment that had been caged against her palm for hours now and attempted not to think about how many times she had read it already. It was a short and unsigned missive but there had been no doubt whatsoever about who had written it from the moment it landed graciously above her Arithmancy textbook during the last lesson of the day.

**_I like it when you wear your hair up._**

James Potter's spidery, elegant handwriting was unmistakable to her by now.

'You people are so boring.' Mary said, the look on her pink-cheeked face that of a bratty child in discontent. 'We have Dearborn here staring out the window like she's watching thestrals getting it on, and Evans over there being bitter and mean.'

'I am not bitter!' answered Lily indignantly.

'You are.' retorted Faye Dearborn. Her eyes did not part from the big, roundly full moon above the trees of the forest. 'I'm hungry.'

'Finally, an idea!' cried Mary in delight. 'We go find Dorcas and the rest of the lot and go down to the kitchens and eat - like people who aren't boring do!'

'We do not go down to the kitchens after curfew, Mary Macdonald. In fact, we ought to go upstairs in a little while. Going out after curfew is a gateway drug to becoming the Marauders.' said Lily, faux-sternly, tapping a finger over the Prefect badge that gleamed upon her chest. She smiled briefly at her best friend's shocked look of disbelief and nodded towards Faye. 'Besides, Faye's got loads of food in the dormitory. And she loves to share.'

'Oh, but_ they_are upstairs!' pouted Mary. 'Dawlish and Dawlish and Crenshaw and the lot of them. And I won't – _won't_, I say – spend my evening listening to Melberta Dawlish telling her daft, brainless cronies about how much Eugenius Mortlake _adores_ her and how _hot_ Sirius Black is in_ our_ dormitory like she hasn't got her own.'

Faye Dearborn broke away from her trance abruptly and stood up in one gracious, seamless move. After being so quietly still for so long, the subtle irritation in her tone was hard for Lily to understand, though she had long ago realised that coping with Faye's mood swings came along with being her friend. 'I do not want them in our dormitory either, Mary. Melberta is a self-satisfied little brat and Maittena Dawlish could not come up with an original thought on her own to save her ruddy life. And do not get me started on Susan Crenshaw- whatever Will McKinnon sees in her is as much of a mystery to me as it is to Marlene.' She looked down at Lily, who was gazing up at her at from her own cushion with a condemning frown. 'Oh, don't be condescending, Lily. Even you can't possibly tolerate the Dawlishes. Besides, twins give me the creeps.'

'You and Declan are twins!'

'We are not _identical_' said Faye, rolling her eyes. Her freckled nose quivered with disgust as she continued, 'and we do not dote on each other. And most certainly, Declan does _not _puppet me around like Melberta does Maittena. How could Theodora Dawlish possibly come out a decent girl with older sisters like those completely escapes my comprehension.'

There were two sixth year Gryffindor girls' dormitories and six girls slept in each of them. They were civil to one another, occasionally spent time together and they would never hesitate to stand up for each other whenever their Gryffindor pride was compromised, but they weren't friends. Lily herself privately though Susan Crenshaw was the Devil's spawn.

'So what do you suggest we do, Faye? Stump into our dormitory and say "Oh, you really must leave, twins give Faye the creeps"?' asked Lily patronizingly.

'I reckon we could, actually.' said Mary, getting up from her armchair to stand besides Faye, who towered a nice four heads above her. Her dark hair flied around her in sheer excitement. 'Or just blatantly tell them we are tired and require they sod off so we can sleep.'

Both girls were grinning madly above her so, with great effort, Lily stood up herself. She closed her eyes for a moment – she was just so, so tired – it wouldn't really be her fault if Faye and Mary gave the Dawlishes and Susan Crenshaw some hell. After all, she was a Prefect, not their parents. And Potter's note was still tightly kept inside her fisted hand. Why hadn't she binned it yet? For a moment she felt again the tingling sensation of his eyes burning at the back of her neck, fixated.

'You go along.' said Lily resignedly. 'Just please don't tell them to sod off. Be nice. Hold yourselves back.'

'When have dear Faye and I been anything but nice to someone?' said Mary, but she had already caught Faye's hand and begun to drag her towards the spiral staircase leading to the girls dormitories before Lily could even attempt an answer.

She sat down in one of the sofas opposite the fire - which was surprisingly empty - and watched how the last of the Gryffindors came back from dinner just as some people begun to make their way up to their dormitories. She was drained, of course, but for some reason unknown to her she did not feel like going to bed. In fact, it was not even nine o'clock yet.

**_I like it when you wear your hair up._**

She crumpled the bit of parchment up and was almost about to throw it at the flames before her when her hand was seized softly by someone standing behind her. Lily turned around in a flash to meet Marlene Macmillan's piercing chocolate brown eyes peering down at her.

'You don't want to do that, Lil.' Marlene sat beside her and patted her knee gingerly, as if tickling a sleeping dragon. The look on her face was both pitiful and sympathetic, and this made Lily blush a furious shade of fuchsia.

'I don't know what you're talking about, Marly.' said Lily tartly.

'James's note – don't burn it.' Marlene laughed quietly as Lily's eyes grew to the size of saucers in astonishment. 'I sit with you in Arithmancy, remember? And I sat next to you at dinner. You must have read the thing half a million times.'

Lily said nothing, just shook her head and furrowed her brows. Marlene went on. 'It's all right, Lil, you know. I'm not one to talk, at all, but I surely understand you. And he's right, of course – you do look quite nice with your hair up.' That last bit Marlene said with a mocking smile, but Lily didn't laugh.

'I just detest him too much.'

'Oh, I know you do.' said Marlene. 'You wouldn't make it so difficult if you didn't.'

Lily looked pleadingly at her friend and Marlene thought it was quite enough. Lily would eventually see, of that much she was certain, but for tonight Marlene felt satisfied.

'Look, I'll say nothing more – but you should know I understand you. In fact, I hoped to talk to you in Arithmancy before _lover boy_ – before James,' Marlene corrected herself when she saw the look of sheer panic in Lily's emerald eyes. 'let us say, _disrupted _our peace. I run into Willemsworth with Susan Crenshaw.'

'You mean Will? Will McKinnon?' asked Lily. She looked relieved the topic of the conversation had been shifted.

'We do not speak of that little slag in such a friendly fashion, Evans.' said Marlene. 'We call him Willemsworth or "that little slag". We most certainly do not call him "Will".'

Marlene Macmillan was one of the girls Lily shared dormitories with. She was tall and rather pretty, and Lily thought that besides Alice Fawley, she truly didn't know anyone kinder. Her platinum blonde hair was cut straight just after it reached her shoulders and her round, deer-like brown eyes where rimmed with many long, thick white-blonde eyelashes.

'I didn't even know his name was Willemsworth. And I though you two were quite close friends.' Lily said defensively. Marlene told her Will was named after his mother's maiden name and Lily found it funny that she knew that. 'You oughtn't to be surprised by now, Marly. He's been seeing her since the end of last year.'

'That much I do know, thank you.' huffed Marlene in exasperation. She pulled a strand of her pin-straight hair behind her ear as she went on, 'I just didn't quite enjoy running into their little snogging session while I was trying to find a bathroom. And he is sort of my friend, perhaps.'

'Oh Marly!'

'It's not such a big deal, really. It's not like I still fancy the prick – I mean, I fancied him when we were fourteen or something. But still...' Now Marlene wasn't meeting Lily's eyes and her arms were tightly crossed around her chest, her hands fidgeting with her Gryffindor tie.

Lily felt incredibly sorry for Marlene. If she remembered correctly, it had been during their second month at Hogwarts that Marly had asked if anyone knew who that quiet, nice-looking second-year was. And now, Lily would bet anyone her right thumb that Marlene feelings hadn't changed at all and that she would jump at Susan Crenshaw's throat if anyone was foolish enough to leave those two alone. Yes, Marlene was indeed an unbelievably caring, kind-hearted person, but she also had a fiery temperament, was as inflammable as a house made of parchment and a tad judgmental. Perhaps that was why she was best friends with Faye Dearborn.

'I get it, Marly. And it's going to be OK, you know. One can only tolerate Susan Crenshaw for a rather short period of time before succumbing to the need of strangling her – and I bet Will's no different.'

'Why, Lily Evans, speaking ill of someone!' Marlene cried in fake glee. 'You must really care for me if you'd go to such extents to see me smile.'

Lily let slip a short smile and looked straight at the fire in front of her. Marlene's troubles appeared to have mildly erased, though not absolutely, Potter's handwritten note from her mind, which hours before seemed to have been marked with a red-hot iron to the back of her eyelids so she'd see it every time she closed her eyes, but that now looked more like it had been etched in a very, very deep black ink.

'Fuck Susan Crenshaw.' said Marlene, more to herself than to Lily.

'Fuck her.'

**January 5****th****, 1971**

**'Do you think he'd ever fancy me?' whispered Marlene Macmillan to Dorcas Meadowes and Lily Evans, who were hovering over Alice Fawley trying to get a look at the copy of Witch Weekly her mother had sent her with the morning post.**

**'Who?' asked Dorcas, as she reached over the breakfast table to snatch the magazine away from Alice. She flipped through the glossy pages and stopped at a rather extensive article about a non-verbal charm to curl hair.**

**'Will McKinnon. You know, he's a second-year. Shares dormitory with Eugenius Mortlake and that lot.' answered Marlene, looking around as if she feared everyone was paying close attention to every word they said. **

**'I'm sure any boy would fancy you, Marlene.' said Lily smilingly.**

**'He's ****_so good-looking._****' whispered Marlene enthusiastically. Every a few seconds her eyes wandered off down the Gryffindor table towards where Will McKinnon was picking up another piece of toast as he talked with Remus Lupin and her white eyelashes fluttered furiously.**

**'I, for myself,' said Dorcas, not even nearly as quietly as Marlene had. 'think that Sirius Black is rotten fit. I'd say James is quite OK too if he wasn't my second cousin and I didn't see as much of him as I do.'**

**'James Potter!' cried Lily indignantly. 'You can't be serious!'**

**'Oh, Lily, James Potter is gorgeous.' said Alice Fawley, looking up from the plate of kippers before her. 'Of course, not even close to how cute Fabian Prewett is. You see, even though they are identical, Gideon is nowhere near as attractive as Fabian is...'**

**'I still like Will McKinnon best, though. Not that I fancy him, obviously. My mother says eleven is too young to fancy boys.' said Marlene and the rest of the girls pretended not to notice that her whole face was suddenly as red as the Gryffindor banner on the wall behind her. 'Besides, we've chatted a couple times now and I sort of believe we are friends. You aren't supposed to think your friends are good-looking.'**

**All the other girls nodded their heads at this reassuringly, but Marlene continued after taking another look at Will McKinnon. 'Do you think Severus Snape is good-looking, Lil?' **

**Lily chocked on her tea. 'Excuse me?'**

**'Severus Snape, Lily. He's your friend, isn't he?' Marlene waited for Lily to nod at this before asking again. 'Do you think he is attractive?'**

**Lily studied the Slytherin table for a moment and whispered when she answered. 'Of course not. Severus is my friend. You aren't supposed to think your friends are good-looking unless they are really, really, undeniably good-looking and I'm afraid Severus isn't.'**

**'Will McKinnon is really, really, undeniably good-looking.' Marlene said, but her words came out so quietly that none of the other girls heard her.**

****(A/N) Thanks so much for reading! I really love the plotline I have in mind for this story, and I'll upload the next chapters if people like it this far.


	2. Chapter 2

**(A/N) Do I even need to say that all of this belongs to J.K Rowling? Oh well. **

**Thanks so much to harrypotterforever24 for the lovely review, it really meant a lot, and to RaucousLaughter for being super nice about all my stupid questions. I really look forward to any sort of feedback from anybody, so please let me know what you all think. **

2.

The storm raged unforgiving over the Hogwarts grounds throughout the night and into the next morning, a Saturday. Alice Fawley woke up to the sound of raindrops as thick as bullets splashing against the small arched window besides her four-poster bed. It was nearly 8 o'clock and the skies outside remained as dark as they had been last night when she had gone to bed. The sound of the showering rain hammering against the crystal windowpanes was joined by Mary Macdonald's soft snores and the slumberous purring of Lily Evans's cat, Heathcliff. The familiar sweet scent of Marlene Macmillan's vase of flowers, sent weekly to her by her father, giddily floated around the bookshelf-lined walls.

Alice sat up on her mattress, parting the crimson velvet around her to look about the circular room. Some stray school robes and muggle shoes were scattered around the dark hardwood floor, especially around Faye Dearborn's trunk which lay open and half-empty, most of its contents piled on Faye's night table, stacked away on the shelves that lined her maroon canopy or crawling out from beneath her bed. On the centre of the room piles of Cauldron Cakes wrappers and empty Chocolate Frog boxes had been left abandoned by Susan Crenshaw and her friends the night before when Mary had hastily ushered them out of the dormitory.

Four of the five other beds were occupied, Alice's dormmates fast asleep and their drapes shut tight. Dorcas Meadowes, her best friend, was unsurprisingly out already, though Alice doubted she had braved the furious weather to get to the Quidditch field where she daily ran for an hour at 5o'clock in the morning.

She sighed deeply. She was going to see Frank today.

Hogwarts was a solitary place on dark, rainy Saturday mornings and Alice encountered very few people as she went down from Gryffindor Tower to the Great Hall for breakfast. Benjy Fenwick, a seventh-year, was coming out of a study room on the ground floor as she passed by and a small group of fifth-year Ravenclaws in muggle clothing sat in deep conversation on the steps of the Grand Staircase, one of them in floods of tears as the rest of them all said how they had always known the crying girl's ex boyfriend was a useless tosser.

There were no more than a dozen people on each of the four tables when Alice walked into the Great Hall, although it was now almost half an hour before 9 o'clock. The staff table at the farther end of the room was only occupied by Professor McGonagall, who sat reading the Daily Prophet, and Professor Vector. The enchanted ceiling above the house tables displayed it was still pitch dark outside, and that the rain continued to pour uninterruptedly. The rain-splattered high windows on both sides of the Hall showed that the grounds were submerged in the same apparent night as the unyielding, torrential clouds above them.

'Alice!' Dorcas called from the middle of the Gryffindor table, waving her dark-skinned hand above her head. She was wearing a black, Hogwarts-crest-emblazoned jumper and her black curly hair stood around her face inharmoniously, yet the effect was not shabby but curiously pleasant. Alice always said that Dorcas was easily one of the prettiest girls in their year, with unbelievably golden eyes and what Witch Weekly would call "a bone structure to die for".

Alice took a seat in front of Dorcas, who was sitting between Gwenog Jones, one of the _other _Gryffindor sixth-years, and Josephine Welsh, a fourth-year. Both girls, like Dorcas, played for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

'Hello.' said Alice smiling. She found those two girls particularly nice. Dorcas said Alice found everyone particularly nice. 'What is it with you Quidditch people and rising early?'

'When you have James Potter for a captain and you train thrice a week at the break of dawn, you end up finding it hard to sleep in.' said Gwenog over a plate of kippers. Josephine Welsh snorted in agreement. 'James himself never sleeps past half past seven. It is weird he's not here yet, actually.'

Alice reached for a tray of toast and pushed some sausages onto her shimmering plate. Remus wasn't there either, the poor thing, he had gone off to visit his mother again. Alice always had breakfast with Remus Lupin and today she felt sorry he wasn't there to behold her excitement for Frank's visit. Besides Dorcas and the rest of the girls, Remus was one of her closest friends.

She would not worry about James not being up yet, though. He would eventually come and find her, as he'd said he would. Because Frank was coming today and James had promised.

Alice and Frank had begun dating when she was in her fourth year and he in his sixth. He was gentle and brave and kind, so utterly and unbelievably kind, and going back to Hogwarts knowing he would not be there had been one of the hardest things Alice had ever done.

'I'm sorry about last night, you know.' Gwenog went on. She had glossy brown hair plaited to one side and a strong, tall frame. Dorcas had told Alice a million times that that girl was going to play for England one day; she was so spectacular at Quidditch. 'The girls taking over your room, I mean.'

'Oh, it was nothing' said Alice just as Dorcas ululated 'Merlin, are they insufferable!'

Gwenog Jones laughed. 'My friend Alix and I were glad they were out for a bit, though. Without Melberta's chin-wagging, we could actually hold a conversation.'

'That's not nice, Jones, now. I don't like my chasers being bitches.' said a low, hoarse voice. James Potter was standing behind Alice now, his long shadow spilling over the breakfast table, and he sat rather heavily besides her. There were dark violet circles underneath his eyes and one of his cheeks was oddly pinkish, like a week-old bruise that had not finished clearing. His eyes were glazy and his hair was still dripping wet from a shower.

Relief rolled over Alice like a tidal wave and she was surprised to realise she had actually been worried. But no longer, no – she was going to see Frank.

Frank – her Frank – Frank who had been away Merlin knew where on intensive Auror training for over a month now. Frank who had been one of the only five selected for Auror training over the last decade and who had barely contacted her since the last time they had seen each other. Brave, bold, brilliant Frank. Frank who had every right on Earth to be cross with her.

'Meadows, Welsh.' James nodded and both girls nodded back. Quidditch people were odd, Alice thought. 'Hullo, Alice.'

'Merlin, Potter' said Dorcas as she poured heavy black tea into a cup she placed in front of James. Alice noticed Gwenog slip a dash of milk into it just as Josephine Welsh passed him an overflowing bowl of porridge over which Dorcas sprinkled brown sugar. Alice wondered if all Quidditch teams fixed their captain's breakfast, and the idea of the macho Gryffindor Beaters buttering James a muffin made her smile. 'You look like absolute rubbish.'

'Thanks, puppet. Aren't you a delight.' grunted James. He took the plate of banana slices Josephine Welsh handed him and mixed it into his porridge.

'Well, you do. Are you hangover?' Gwenog asked, and James shook his head.

'No – I just didn't sleep much.' James croaked. 'Marauding.'

The three girls nodded and Alice thought they must've had heard such explanation so many times it now seemed only natural. None of them questioned him further, and Alice saw it was not because they respected his privacy but because they had lost curiosity over time about the Marauders many, many escapades.

They ate in silence for a while as the wind rustled outside and thunder shook the castle's windows. Josephine Welsh left first, taking a rather huge pile of croissants wrapped in a napkin with her, and Gwenog Jones got up not ten minutes after that.

'Finally!' cried Dorcas as Gwenog sailed out the double doors of the Great Hall. 'I've been wanting to talk about Frankie ever since I saw you, Al. He's coming in today, isn't he?'

'Yes,' Alice whispered, sitting up straight. 'He's been given the weekend off training.'

James lifted his head from the table against which he was resting his forehead and looked up at her, his round-framed glasses lopsided.

'When is he getting here?' he asked hoarsely.

'I'm to meet him at the Broomsticks at noon.' Alice said, her grey eyes twinkling. 'And oh, James, I can't tell you how thankful I am.'

'No worries.' answered James. 'I'll get you to Longbottom.'

An hour or so later, Hogwarts began to wake and crowds of students swarmed into the Great Hall bringing lively noise and chit chatter with them. The clouds of the enchanted ceiling were now a lighter shade of violet, although the storm went on as fiercely as it had all night and the occasional thunder still made Professor McGonagall shiver in her high-backed chair. James had gone back up to bed after promising Alice to meet her in the third floor corridor at a quarter to twelve, and his seat had been quickly filled by some raunchily loud fourth-year who Dorcas threatened to Cruciate if he didn't shut it. After the boy made a very graphical description of how he felt watching Josephine Welsh ride a broomstick, Dorcas stood up, hexed his hair off and dragged Alice out of the Hall before the boy had a chance to yell "barking bitch!"

Both girls climbed up the Grand Staircase, Dorcas swearing she had seen McGonagall's thin lips curl into a proud inkling of a smile when she saw her jinx that "horny, ugly little git". More people were coming down to breakfast now and they were two of the few going up against the currents. Getting up to the seventh floor took a lot of pushing from Dorcas and many profuse apologies from Alice. Dorcas shouted the password at the Fat Lady over a group of hurrying first-years who were climbing out through the hole to the common room. Once inside Gryffindor Tower, they went up the spiral staircase to their dormitory.

'Good morning, lovely ladies!' Dorcas bellowed as she pushed the door open with a bang. The noise of wood hitting stone cracked through the room like a shot.

The shower was on inside the bathroom and the floor had been cleared of rubbish. The books that had been strewn across the room that morning were now neatly placed back on the many bookshelves of the room, the clothes on the floor folded on top of their owners' trunk, and even Faye's perennial mess had been straightened up. From inside the loo, Marlene was singing the school song with bold ardour. Both Alice and Dorcas were certain she had been the one cleaning up – Marlene Macmillan was the unofficial mother hen of their dormitory.

'I. Hate. You. Dorcas.' slurred Mary Macdonald from behind her bed drapes.

'I will murder you, Meadowes.' called Faye, stepping out of the bed and picking up a silk dressing gown from her bedside cabinet, squinting her yellowy green eyes at Dorcas' figure. She had surrendered unquestioningly, though bitterly, to Dorcas's unkind awakening.

'Quit faffing, dear, bitchy Faye.' sung Dorcas, striding across the dormitory to open Mary's draperies. Mary groaned. 'Has Marlene been tidying up? This place looks less like a mess than it normally does.'

'Yes.' answered Faye drowsily. She looked, in all honesty, like she hadn't slept a wink. Her eyes were blood shot and the skin under her eyes bluish. She sat on her bed, propped her elbow up on her knee and yawned quietly. 'Doesn't Lily get to have you wake her? It would be unfair to her if she didn't have the pleasure.'

'Good gracious, I am awake, Faye. I'm just trying to ignore the lot of you so I can go back to sleep.' said Lily without opening her eyes. 'I'm so terribly tired.'

Mary Macdonald stretched her arms and got up, walking onto the centre of the room. Marlene was howling the Irish national anthem now. 'What day's it?' she asked, her dark hair tussled in what must've been a bun the night before.

'Saturday!' shrieked Dorcas gleefully. Faye rolled her eyes.

'Wait,' asked Lilly, propping herself up on her bed. 'Isn't Frank coming in today, Al?'

'Yes.' beamed Alice, 'I'm having lunch with him and I can't believe I'm seeing him and Merlin you all know how much I've missed him.'

'We do.' Faye said impassively.

'But...' asked Lily dubiously. 'how is he coming into the castle?'

Alice's smile faltered down a bit. Lily frowned.

'Oh no, Alice Fawley!' she scowled. 'You aren't going through with that, are you? It's mental! And look outside for a second – it's raining cats and dogs!'

'James's passage is underground, Lily. I won't get wet.' Alice whispered, a wisp of pink creeping onto her cheeks.

'Fine – let Potter lead you to your doom. Just don't say I didn't tell you so.' Lily sneered, but her harsh gaze softened at Alice's look of forlornness.

'Lils, dear, what did we say about being bitter?' said Mary, an approving Faye nodding over her shoulder. 'You sexually repressed, you.'

'I am not bitter, Mary Macdonald. But I'm sorry, Alice, I understand you wanting to see Frank at all cost. I would too if I had an Auror-trainee boyfriend.' said Lily, reaching her hand out to Alice who took it with a thankful smile.

'Lily,' Alice whispered so softly none of the other girls could listen. 'has Snape talked to you since classes began?'

'No, he hasn't.' Lily's face was now dark. 'And I wouldn't want him to.'

'Now, now, ladies.' said Dorcas, her palms itching with whimsical excitement as she lifted her arms around her face. 'We must get down to business- what on earth is Miss Alice Fawley wearing on her date? I say Dearborn's very pure-blood, Augusta-Longbottom-friendly silvery robes, but that's just me.'

Potter led her through the passageway that was born from the statue of the one-eyed witch on the third floor corridor down a damp opening in the rock which Alice thought must be underneath the Black Lake. The rocky walls were dripping with icy drops of cloudy water and covered in orange moss that James stressed she ought not to touch. They walked for a good twenty minutes in which they barely talked (Alice's stomach was turning and her hands shook in excitement and her mouth was so dry she was sure she wouldn't be able to speak even if she wanted to) before they came to a worn, wooden trapdoor at the end of a steep staircase carved right into the stone. James told her how to get out unnoticed, how to sneak back into the castle, wished her luck and disappeared back into the shadowy tunnel.

She had been so, so stupid. How could she have blamed him? He truly ought to be awfully cross with her, but knowing Frank, he probably wasn't. But it was all going to be okay really soon because she was going to see him, and Alice had learnt over the last two years that very few things were ever not okay when she saw Frank.

She was out the front door of Honeydukes Sweetshop in a minute, the chilly, wet wind tangling the pale blue dress she had borrowed from Marlene. It was still pouring down, even more heavily if possible, but she did not care for a second. She crossed Hogsmeades's main road in a furious sprint and ran down the road that led to the station, her cloak floating behind her, her black leather shoes holding her back momentarily as they got stuck in muddy pools of dirty rainwater. The bone-chilling rain was blinding in her eyes and her pulled-up hood was probably messing the plaited headband Lily had spent so much time on but all she could see was the blurry image of the Three Broomsticks not twenty yards ahead of her, blurry-edged and misty behind the dense curtain of down pouring water.

And then she saw him. Tall, broad shouldered, his dampened black-blue Auror cloak clinging to his strong frame. Frank. Standing in the middle of the road in the storm like nothing was happening and his blonde hair wasn't dark with water – Frank.

She threw herself at him with such force she almost tackled him down onto the muddy lake that was the road, but he soon found his balance and snaked his arms around her waist, lifting her off her feet.

'Hello, Al.' he whispered into her hair, kissing it, and the tightly compressed, mind-numbing uneasiness that had been nesting in her chest since the last time she had seen him broke like a dam into a flood of tears – God, she had been so awful to him. He tightened his grip on her. 'No, Al, don't cry. Oh, love – what's wrong?'

'I've missed you so much.' she wailed. 'Merlin, I've missed you. I'm sorry.'

Frank chuckled softly and pulled her face gently so he could kiss her forehead and then peck her lips briefly. Rain was running down his face in terrible streams and he was holding her as closely as it was possible. Alice's body shook in sobs, and he stroked her wet hair.

'I've missed you too, Alice.'

'Merlin, I was so worried – I was so, so worried – and you were away for the _longest_ of times.' she sobbed. 'And I am so absolutely proud of you but I can't help it when I read the papers and I think about all those awful, awful things and how you're right there in the middle of it.'

'Don't.' he said softly, placing her back on the ground. A thick drop of icy water ran down his long, straight nose.

'I love you.' she said as she reached down to get hold of his large, wet hand. He traced small circles on her palm with his thumb. 'And – about what you said – I think that's what I want as well. Not for a bloody moment, remember?'

'I love you too, Al.' Frank was beaming.

**June 20****th****, 1976**

**'Please don't say that.' Frank said, the hurt in his voice so obvious Alice had to bite her tongue to keep herself from crying. The moonlight coming into her room casted deep, unsettling shadows over his aquiline face that did nothing but accentuate his baffled grimace.**

**'I don't mean it that way Frank, you know I don't.' she tried to explain, but Frank had taken a step back and his eyes weren't holding her gaze as vivaciously as they had a few mere seconds ago.**

**'Then whatever do you mean, Al, ****_you don't think you can take it anymore_****? ****_You're done_****? What's that supposed to mean then?' Frank said but his voice was not accusatory, just as brokenly bewildered as his escaping glance.**

**'I mean that it hurts, Frank.' she answered, taking a step towards where he stood enveloped in the flying white curtains of her room's French windows, that led right into the big square patio. The whole house was built around it, a U-shaped one-floored villa of terracotta walls. 'It hurts so, so much.'**

**'So what, Alice? Because I'm not at Hogwarts anymore, because I'm not going to see you anymore, then it's just off? Bloody hell, I'm going away for training, Al, I'm not on holiday.' he said angrily, losing his pleasant, gentle demeanour for the first time that night and probably for the first time since Alice had known him. 'Don't you think it hurts for me too? Don't you think it's bloody difficult?'**

**'Of course I do! And it's bloody well not off with us Francis, I would never say something like that! It has absolutely nothing to do with not seeing you – ****_that_**** I can handle.' she hissed, waving her arms around her head. Frank stepped back again apprehensively. She wished so badly to yell at the top of her lungs but her mother was asleep, and it was actually better if she did not know he was there. 'But you are out there doing what's got to be done – what I wish I could be doing – and I'm the ickle schoolgirl idly waiting for her boyfriend to come back!'**

**Frank was silent for a moment so Alice went on, this time more calmly. Her long, pale fingers were playing nervously with something in her right hand, a small plastic wrapper that kept making a soft cracking noise as she folded it and unfolded it. 'I have been worried off my rocker since you got in. You know how proud of you I am – you know being an Auror is exactly what I want to do – and You-Know-Who has got to be stopped and I love you to the end of the world for wanting to do your part in that' she took a deep breath and shot him a pleading look. 'but I just love you, Frank. I truly, truly love you – and if something were to happen to you – if you weren't there anymore – I, I...'**

**He crossed the distance between them in one long stride and put his heavy arms around her and she buried her round face into his broad, familiar chest. He stroked her hair in silence and his voice was hoarse when he spoke next.**

**'I love you.' he said quietly. 'And I can't say it's going to be easy and we're going to be all right and all those things I wish I could say, because it's going to be sodding bloody difficult, love. And I'm sorry for putting you through this, Ali, but I am going to do everything I possibly can to make this world safe for you. Because I can't imagine ever living without you, Alice – ever. I want you every bloody day.'**

**He paused briefly so he could place two fingers beneath her chin, forcing her to look at him with a gentle tug. Her pale grey eyes met his dark green ones. 'I don't ever want to be without you, do you understand that? Do you understand what I'm saying, Alice? Do you get what I'm implying? Not ever.' **

**'Oh.' Alice breathed.**

**'Yeah – Oh.' Frank laughed softly. 'And I know it's not the time for that right now, but I want you to know what my intentions are. And I'll go see you the moment I get sent back – I reckon it should be before October.' Alice flinched at this. 'I've written to James Potter, love – that's what I've been trying to tell you. He'll get you to me when I can make it into Hogsmeade because I'm not bloody waiting for your Hogsmeade weekends to see you.'**

**'That's nice.' Alice said. Her voice trembled subtly.**

**'Now love, don't go monosyllable on me. I won't bring that up again until you're nicely out of Hogwarts, I swear. But do know I'm serious: I am not going to live without you, Alice Fawley – not ever, not for one bloody minute.' he said and stopped for a reaction that did not come. 'Promise you'll come see me when I get back—the moment I get back?'**

**Alice nodded. 'Good. I have to leave now, love. I doubt your mum would like me much if she found me sneaking into her daughter's room at 2 o'clock in the morning only to upset her.' Frank leaned down and kissed her forehead. 'I love you, Alice. I'll see you in two months.'**

**'Bye.' she whispered, but Frank was already out the window-doors. Something broke ever so slightly inside her as she heard him Disapparate quietly off the courtyard. She still held the chewing gum wrapper inside her hand.**

(A/N) OK, I hope you liked it! I'm just so interested in Frank and Alice as a couple. I think theirs is one of the most drawingly tragic stories in the seried. Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

(A/N): Of course, everything belongs to JK Rowling. I wanted to clarify something though: If we consider that James and Lily were born at the beginning of 1960, and that the Hogwarts school year begins September 1st and ends on the first days of June, then the dates I'm using for my flashbacks should be easy to understand :)

3.

Declan Dearborn had the painfully irritating ability to never be around when Faye needed him. He would rarely ever be more than twenty feet away from Vikram Ashanti, his best friend, and his time was normally divided between the Quidditch pitch and the Gryffindor common room. But now, precisely when his sister wanted to talk to him more than anything else, Declan seemed to have disappeared and no one could possibly tell her where to.

Declan Dearborn was incredibly, almost comically tall, even more so than his twin sister Faye, who had a good couple inches on most of her male classmates. Declan Dearborn was also incredibly, almost comically good-looking. The Dearborn twins had not one, but two Veela grandmothers, and therefore possessed that slightly supernatural, ethereal beauty that many found more unsettling than attractive. They had clear, angled features, softly glowing skin as pale as parchment, penetrating green eyes that were almost yellow and soft light brown freckles dusting their face and shoulders. They moved seamlessly, as if constantly dancing with an inborn grace that had granted Declan his wish of becoming a Beater for Gryffindor. The Dearborn twins had not one, but two Veela grandmothers, and therefore had uncommonly short tempers. Faye believed that her long-standing friendship with Marlene Macmillan was thanks to their mutual acceptance of the other's temperamental disposition. The Dearborn twins were easily irritated and sharp-tongued and abrasive when cross. There were many, many people who did not like Faye Dearborn, but somehow Hogwarts remained enthralled with Declan. Perhaps, Faye wondered, it was because half the female student body would murder their pets to lock him up in their trunks and never let him go. Their mysteriously tragic family history did nothing but add to his appeal.

The Dearborns were an exceptionally old pure-blood family – they were exceptionally rich and exceptionally celebrated. They had occupied high posts in the Ministry for centuries and many of their ancestors had been ministers and ambassadors and Warlocks. They lived in a traditional wizarding village, Godric's Hollow, where they rubbed elbows with the likes of the Potters and the McKinnons – and absolutely everyone wanted to rub elbows with the Potters and the McKinnons. Their home, Dearborn Hall, was an architectural marvel, its every wall lined with countless medals for the Order of Merlin and portraits of generations and generations of Dearborn wizards and witches.

Faye Dearborn still wasn't sure how she was going to tell her brother. He would be equally, if not more, as lividly, blindingly furious as she felt at that moment. The thick parchment was carelessly folded in the bottom of her pocket but she could feel it against her body as if it burned. They truly had outdone themselves this time, the bloody idiots.

Faye had been wandering the castle for forty minutes now and her moronic git of a brother was neither in the Hall nor in any of the first floor study rooms, each of which she had searched with scrutiny for Declan's head of coppery hair to no avail. Any other bloody given day she would have asked Sirius to look him up for her, but after such an awful night he was still in his dormitory, asleep. Besides, Faye detested asking Black for things. It would have taken Sirius around three seconds to figure out exactly what was going on and that was absolutely the last thing she needed.

'Oy, Greyroad!' she called when she saw one of Declan's teammates leaning against a rocky pillar in a third floor corridor, chatting up a younger-looking, revealingly-dressed Hufflepuff. 'Have you seen my brother?'

'Said he'd be in the library.' Tom Greyroad answered, flashing her a broad white-teethed smile that seemed to distraught the poor Hufflepuff sleaze. If she had not been as utterly consumed with rage Faye would have found that hilarious.

She could feel her hand twitching as she marched to the library and her whole face burning as if it were on fire. If she had (as she certainly hadn't) allowed herself a few tears, they would have evaporated instantaneously. Six years they had spent at Hogwarts, and not once had Declan gone to the library for longer than it took to take a book out. But now, when their parents were once more being idiotic, heartless bastards, he had decided to go up for a bit of studying. The prick.

Faye found her brother in a far off table near the Charms section, his feet on the table top and a grimy, beat down muggle paperback in his hand while ancient-looking, battered, leather-binded tomes on Astronomy lay amidst a chaos of parchment rolls and his disorganized class notes. A group of giggling fourth year Ravenclaw girls were making a fair mess of pretending not to be ogling him, whispering maniacally and holding their breath every time he turned the pages. Madame Pince, the infamously strict librarian, sent him a sly smile every a couple of minutes and did not appear to have noticed he had his filthy trainers on top one of her beloved mahogany tables.

'I've been looking for you for hours.' Faye sniggered. She rested both her hands on the table with a loud thud that made Madame Pince look up from her filing and frown sternly. All the giggling girls stopped giggling to shoot her disapproving glares.

'I'm here.' Declan said without looking up at her. Faye reached out and pulled the book out of his grasp, shutting it close. She pulled out a chair and took a seat.

'I so observed.' she said curtly. The librarian shushed her indignantly, so Faye continued in a dry, harsh whisper. 'Mum has written to us – and it's fucking rubbish.'

Declan cocked an eyebrow. Faye could swear she heard a girl swoon and it took all of her and some more not to hex her into oblivion. 'What?' he asked.

'They are throwing a ball.' she informed. 'For Max.'

Now all the girls in Ravenclaw robes were doing their absolute best to listen in to their conversation, so Faye flicked her wand hurriedly and muttered _Muffliato_. Severus Snape was a stalking freak, but his little cunning spells came in very handy then and again.

Declan furrowed his brows so tightly they became one. 'Why?' he asked. His noncommittal smirk had turned into a contracted grimace and he had hunched over to Faye so that their heads were almost touching. This close, their faces looked almost identical.

'It's a bloody memorial, Dec. They want to celebrate Max's braveness or some codswallop like that.'

'Max's braveness? Is it brave to die because your parents are sodding stupid?' Declan hissed. His knuckles where white around the edge of the table and his eyes were blazing murderously. Declan's anger made Faye feel better in some twisted, sick way.

'That's not all.' Faye whispered. Her usually low voice was now hoarse as gravel. 'They are turning the whole thing into a bloody anti-You-Know-Who rally – like Max was some sort of fighting martyr or some shite. The whole stupid thing is so Caradoc it disgusts me.'

'What are the Potters saying about this?' her brother asked. He had not blinked since the first time she mentioned Max, and his handsomely square jaw was so tightly clenched it looked as if it could break.

'Mum says they don't think it's a good idea, but that she and Caradoc are hoping to convince them. They can't do a sodding thing without Audra Potter, you know, they never can.'

Declan nodded shortly and rested his folded arms atop one of the books on the table. Faye waited for him to say something, but remained quiet when he didn't. She wanted him to be enraged, as hurt and as violently blindsided as she was, to promise her they weren't going to let this happen, that they would not let their parents do this to their brother Max.

'Do you remember the day he left?' Declan said abruptly. Faye was surprised.

'Yes. Do you?'

'Yes. It was a few days after he finished Hogwarts.' Declan nodded. It had been years since they had talked about this, she realised. Max's face was covering every square inch of her mind like a propaganda poster now. Her brother's eyes, yellow and green, so much like hers and Declan's, were staring at her with unperturbed fixation from every corner of her now spinning head. 'I was in the Grey Room, right next to Father's study, and I heard the whole thing.'

She considered reaching out her hand to hold his but decided wisely against it. Dearborns weren't much for physical comforting. She waited for Declan to go on.

'They were screaming a lot. Maximillian told Father that he was being a self-righteous numpty, that it was correct to fight and do the right bloody thing but that he was being arrogant and careless and that we – you and I – we were going to get the blow for it.' his voice quavered and the silence around them became insufferably uncomfortable. 'He talked about Father's interview with the Prophet and how it was reckless and stupid to say You-Know-Who was nothing more than a narcissistic maniac. Max said he was underestimating him and that he was putting us all in danger by acting as if our family was not threatened. Caradoc said Max was a cheeky know-it-all and that if he did not want to stand up to evil like the rest of the family, then he could go.'

And Max had left alright. Until the day he was found murdered in his London townhouse, a poisonous Dark Mark hovering about the scene, Agatha and Caradoc Dearborn did not see their son again.

'I'm not going to go.' blurted Declan. 'I'm not going to play the happy family. I'm done with them.'

'Do you think they actually had to talk to each other to plan this thing out, or did Mum just send Father's secretary an owl?' Faye asked, and she saw with delight that the sides of Declan's lips were twitching minimally upwards.

'Oh, imagine that. "Dear Mildred, please do tell my husband we have not done anything remarkably dim-witted this past month and it's high time we be undeniable fools again. Do ask for suggestions."'

'"Perhaps something cruel and tactless. We might even fuck up our remaining kids for good if we try hard enough!"' Faye was smiling now, and Declan even let out a short ghost of a laugh.

'Thanks, Faye. You aren't such a rubbish sister every once in a while.' Declan sent her a teasing smile, and began to collect his books from the table. The tomes stacked themselves up into the air and, neatly piled, began to flutter around Declan's shoulder, waiting for him to get up and leave.

'Don't get sentimental now, Declan Wilfred. You are an absolute rubbish brother.' she said with mocking curtness. She got up, turned around on her heel and strode off. She felt so much better.

* * *

He took her by the arm the second he saw her walking by herself and dragged her into one of the unused classrooms at the very end of the corridor leading away from the library. The door whined as he closed it behind them and he placed his folded arm above her head, his other hand reaching for her soft cheek. He leaned forward to kiss her but she shook his arms off her before he was close enough to shut up her protesting squeaks the way he intended to.

'Black, don't.' she muttered. Her face was flushed and Sirius observed it suited her. There were few things, however, that didn't.

'Give me a good reason why not to.' he shot back, once again leaping forwards towards her face. She turned her head around and his lips met her hair.

'I didn't sleep a wink. I happened to be worried last night, you know.' she shook her head fiercely when she saw the delighted surprise in Sirius's face. 'Not about you of course, you incomprehensible troll. It was just raining too hard and I was worried something bad might happen.'

'I'm fine, Dearborn, no need to get your knickers in a twist.' he called and Faye shot him one of those deathly glares that used to have a terrifying effect on him, but that he had grown accustomed to over the past few months. 'It was a hard one, though. Bad weather makes it worse for Moony, I suppose. He's more violent when it rains like that.'

'Oh. Is he alright now?' Faye asked, unnerved. Sirius admired the incredible talent she had to act as if she couldn't care less about the things that mattered the most to her and valued immensely that she did not use it around him any longer – except for those few occasions he did his best not to think about and worked so hard to ignore. He had noticed how she had been uncharacteristically kind to Remus on the last few days leading up to his first full moon of the term. He found that sweet.

'Yes, he is. We all went up to see him this morning before we went to bed. James was afraid he had got hurt, you know. He was fine luckily, but James still rambled about how it was his entire fault, even though Remus was fine.'

'James does that.' Faye agreed. She looked older than she was. That was only one of the things that Sirius liked about her: next to Faye, most of the girls in their year looked like lanky ten-year-olds – even Dorcas, and Sirius Black had always had a soft spot for Dork-arse Meadowes.

'It is lovely that you were worried, Dearborn, love.' Sirius teased, and stepped out of her reach before she could smack him silly. Faye liked doing that very much.

'As I've already mentioned, you half-witted dog, I wasn't worried about _you. _If anything, I was worried my toy might get broken.' she said jokingly, flickering one of her arched, light brows.

'I find the idea of being your toy astonishingly appealing, Faye Berenice. I might even overlook the fact that you have an embarrassing middle name and continue with this secret society of ours.' he said, putting his arms around her. He felt relieved she didn't pull him off this time.

'Your bloody middle name is Orion, Black.' she said, pulling a disgusted face. 'It's like your parents hated you even before you were born.'

'They probably did.' Sirius chuckled. 'Now, Dearborn, we've chatted long enough. Do keep in mind the objective of the aforementioned secret society. Care to do what we're here to do?'

'Why, Sirius Orion, of course.' she said, and she kissed him before he could see it coming.

**May 31****st****, 1976**

**He had told James and the lads he needed a run, grabbed the Cloak and the Map and made his way hurriedly out of the castle, so quickly he almost ran into Lily Evans and Eugenius Mortlake as they made their rounds around the corridors. It was barely a couple of hours after the feast which marked the end of the school year but his clothes were already folded and his books tucked away inside his trunk in preparation for the train ride that would take them all home the next morning.**

** James knew what it was all about, of course—James always seemed to know what was happening to each of them—so he let him go with a dry nod and questioning eyes. Prongs was still utterly nonplussed about what had happened with Evans and Snape earlier that day by the Lake, so even if he had had any intention to interfere he had lacked the drive to do so. Remus had stared at him in a quizzing fashion, but Remus always seemed to find reasons to stare at people in a quizzing fashion so this did not worry Sirius much. Remus had learnt with time not to expect explanations. Peter hadn't quite realised he had left the dormitory – he was battling against his Care of Magical Creatures textbook, which refused to be locked away in Peter's trunk and had already attempted to eat his hand off twice.**

**Sirius had waited until he was on the edge of the Forest to remove the Cloak, which was beginning to be too short for him. He had walked up to a tree he knew very well, had hung the cloak from one of its boughs and placed the Map and his wand on a nicely hidden hole in its trunk.**

**The second he had felt his four strong, muscular legs touch the ground he had broken into a fast, feverish sprint. As he ran, the lurking doubts that were nagging at him were almost banished. He felt the ground disappearing for seconds beneath him, the wind ruffling through his long, black fur and could only phantom the exhaustion his human body would feel from this mad form of exercise, but he didn't care. The speed and the strain kept him from thinking.**

**He ran with no direction for what felt like hours around the Forest, jumping the ancient roots from tall, powerful trees that crisscrossed the earth like slithering snakes. It was a slightly hot night and the new moon cast its blue, haunting light around the clearings and hollows, creating dark, enormous shadows all around him. The Forest was immersed in a deep, unsettling silence only broken by the sound of his trodding on dry twigs and rustling leaves. The earth was cool but the air had the deliciously warm touch of one of the first nights of summer.**

**At one point, after what seemed like days of moving without pause, the trees around him became less thick and he was able again to see the stars above him. The moon was high in the night sky and Sirius thought it should be close to midnight by now. His hound eyes, used to seeing in the darkness, could decipher the edge of the Black Lake in the distance. He approached it without thinking.**

**Years later, in his rotten cell in Azkaban, Sirius would be visited a million times and again by the vision that now met his eyes. The need to end Peter Pettigrew, the mind-clouding grief for James and Lily and the overwhelming, unquenchable need to see their son Harry, his godson, would only be interrupted by the soothing memory of that night.**

**A figure was standing in the water of the Black Lake, a few yards away from its bank. It was a woman, Sirius now saw, and she was naked. The water went up to her waist and her milky, freckled skin appeared blue in the moonlight. Her dampen hair reached the middle of her back and she was brushing her fingers through it as if the obvious coldness of the Lake could not reach her pale body. **

**Sirius stood there, unable to move, his uncomfortable gaze never leaving the enchanting silhouette whose face he still had not seen. She might be a Veela, Sirius thought; Remus had talked about Veelas many times. The girl was walking around the Lake now, her face towards the tree against which Sirius sat, but she didn't waddle like people normally do when submerged but moved with gracious, carefree ease as though the waters parted to let her through. It took a minute for Sirius to realise that she was coming out of the Lake.**

**'Black.' said Faye Dearborn once she reached the grassy banks. She did not even try to cover her very naked body and her features appeared unfazed as if there was a perfectly sensible reason for his obviously unexpected presence.**

**Sirius was baffled to realise that he had shifted back and was paralysed by the idea that he had done so in front of Faye Dearborn. He was terrified to catch on that had not noticed the change in his form.**

**'Why were you a dog right before I came out?' she asked with unabashed curiosity. Her voice was slightly low and raspy but he could swear he had never heard a sound more drawing.**

**'I'm an Animagus.' answered Sirius without thinking. Faye said nothing and her eyes remained unchanged. They both stood in immobile silence for a moment.**

**'Why are you here?' she asked unfalteringly.**

**'I think I want to leave my parents' house.' said Sirius calmly. 'I was thinking about it – or trying to stop thinking about it, actually.'**

**'My father says your family thinks muggle-borns are the filth in his shoe.' Faye crossed her arms across her chest, the first one to move. He noticed there were Goosebumps along her arms and neck.**

**'Your father is right.' said Sirius coolly. 'What are you doing naked in the Lake?'**

**Faye smiled eerily. 'I do not want to go back to my parents' house.'**

**'It's bloody freezing.' he said. He took his school cloak off his shoulders and handed it to her.**

**'Don't be ridiculous, Black.' she said, casting his extended hand a distrustful look. 'I did not walk out of Hogwarts starch naked.'**

**She picked up her wand from a rock to her left and flicked it once. A bunch of twigs and wet, decomposing leaves transfigured back to her night gown and cloak. She swished the wand around herself next, drying her hair and skin. Sirius felt sorry the pearly beads of water were no longer adorning her white shoulders. He also felt deeply ashamed of contemplating such things as "pearly beads of water".**

**As if he wasn't standing there, she threw the black silk, long-sleeved nightgown over herself and put on grey woollen slippers. She tightened the silver fasting of her Hogwarts-crested cloak and shot him a stern look as she pulled the hood over her pale blonde hair.**

**'Are you coming back to the castle?' she asked impatiently. 'Or do you need some more time to wail and sob about Mummy and Daddy being bad, Dark wizards?'**

**And that is when he kissed her.**


	4. Chapter 4

**(A/N) As usual, everything belongs to Joanne Rowling. Thanks so much for every single review! I really appreciate it. Please, keep on letting me know what you think!**

4.

James Potter loved Transfiguration. He needed hardly make any effort at all in any of his classes, but Transfiguration he could pass with top marks and flying colours without lifting a finger; the ability to transfigure absolutely anything into absolutely anything else sort of came with absentminded ease after spending three years trying to become an Animagi. James loved lounging at the back of the Transfiguration class doing nothing but drifting away into his thoughts. Professor McGonagall and he had an unspoken, tacit agreement James respected religiously – as long as he kept his friends and himself as quiet and as little interruptive as humanly possible, the professor would allow him to trail off and pretend not to notice the four of them had no ruddy clue what was presently being taught. As long as they passed tests and answered questions impeccably and did not disrupt her classroom for a single second, they were at liberty to pay as little attention as they so desired.

James also genuinely liked the subject. If it hadn't become so unbearably easy for him he'd probably be sitting right at the front of the class, right where at that precise moment Marlene Macmillan was writing every single word coming out of Minerva McGonagall's thin lips as if her life depended upon it. It was the first lesson of an early October Monday morning, a radiant, fine morning, and James felt quite content. A little over two weeks had passed since the last full moon and Remus was now as recovered as he would ever be – James had worried so terribly that last full moon; it had all been so close to going completely down the drain with the awful weather and Moony being so sodding uncontrollable. But nothing had happened and now the scratches in his back were fully scabbed and Remus's bruises were almost totally faded.

Yet another thing he loved about Transfiguration was his sitting arrangement. He normally occupied the last desk to the left at the very back row of the classroom, right by the window overlooking the Black Lake, sitting next to Peter. He got waves of crisp, golden sunlight during the winter and rolls of cool, soft breeze during the spring if he sat by the open window. He always had perfect natural lightning when it was a clear day and he always enjoyed the smashing of the raindrops against the crystals when it was story. But most importantly, from his treasured seat at the back of the Transfiguration classroom, he got a full, complete, free-of-obstacles view of the back of Lily Evans's head.

His Transfiguration lessons gave him the chance to observe his classmates freely, which he found endlessly amusing. He particularly relished observing Lily Evans and the tantalizing back of her head – Merlin, he was pathetic. He tilted his chair on its back legs and ruffled his hair at the back in an automatic, unregistered movement of his hand. With childish glee he had noticed that she had worn her hair up for the four following days after he'd sent her that note on the day of the last full moon, and this felt like a personal triumph to him. She had repeated the hairstyle but a couple times over the weeks that followed. He was sceptical to believe it was for his enjoyment, though. Six years with Lily Evans had taught him few things crossed her as much as James Potter enjoying himself.

That particular Monday morning Evans's hair was pulled up at the crown of her head in a tightly twisted bun and that round mole situated at the symmetrical centre of the back of her neck was in full display. It was a very absorbing thing to focus on, Lily Evans's mole at the back of her neck, James thought, while the rest of the class (Lily included) struggled to figure out how to turn a country mouse into a saucer full of mashed potatoes. He wondered how long it would take Sirius to stop laughing if he told him he spent hours eyeballing a mole.

As he sat there, next to a drowsing Peter, the full force of the weak mid autumn sunrays warming the side of his face, his thoughts drifted back (he had no clue why) to that day in fifth year, in the middle of April if he was not mistaken, when Lily Evans's parents had died in a car accident. He had heard about it from a teary-eyed, perplexed Dorcas over dinner and had wandered about the castle in shock for hours after that, ridden by an unexplainable sense of impotence. In his wandering he had come without meaning to to a forgotten circular chamber on the sixth floor, a room with wood-panelled walls and cold stone floors, lit only very dimly by rusty candelabra, where he had found Lily coiled around herself, sitting on the floor against the farthest wall from the door. Six months had passed and he could still see with perfect clarity her silhouette half hidden in the darkness of the corner, half exposed by the dancing flickers of light from the torches. She hadn't even looked up as he walked in and stopped immediately on his tracks when he saw her. He had almost thought for a second there that Lily had expected him to show up.

'Evans.' was all he had said when he saw her in such incomprehensible pain he felt guilty for witnessing it. His voice was intruding and unwanted among the silence of the room, only broken by her quiet sobs and the soft buzzing of the burning candles. She had then looked up at him for the first time with infuriated green eyes and James had not for a second doubted it was him she was angry at. He had expected her to yell and shriek and call him a thousand names and was bracing himself for the unavoidable row when she got up to her feet, staggered weakly across to where he stood, and threw herself into him. His arms had snaked around her unconsciously and he had rested his chin atop her messy hair as if holding her was something he did every day of his life. Even now, almost half a year later, James could not tell how long they had stayed like that for, in complete silence in the half darkness, as she wept her heart out onto his shirt. He had said nothing and neither had she; all he had done was stroke her hair until his wrist ached and her sobbing began to dry out. When she became silent and immobile and he realised she was no longer crying, the idea of letting go flashed through his head for a brief moment – but he hadn't because she was so feeble and sad and it was inhumane to remove his arms from around her small frame and because the feeling of hugging Lily Evans was just too delightful to make it stop. He felt instantaneously guilty when he realised that, even though she was as broken as he had ever seen her, he still found having her in his arms was the best thing he had ever experienced.

He looked at her with more intensity now. She was sitting with Mary Macdonald, flicking her light-coloured wand at a black mouse atop her desk to no apparent avail and James could tell from the way in which she was tapping her fingers against the table that she was becoming frustrated. They had never talked about their little encounter – never. Never during the multiple times they had quarrelled from that day onwards until the end of fifth year. Never while they sat so disturbingly close to each other during meals when he chatted with Dorcas and Faye and she pretended not to notice him there. He had wondered so many times what she thought about how they'd acted – so comfortably close and intimate. Did she remember looking up at him, all red and puffy in the eyes, and saying thanks? Had she forgotten walking out of the room and leaving him there, nonplussed, so utterly bewildered and moved and speechless that he had stayed there until Remus, Map in hand, had come to get him? She was doing better now; she was laughing again and that hidden flick of amusement when they rowed was back in her green eyes. For months, James had seen the little dot labelled "L. Evans" on the Marauder's Map drift away from crowds, alone on some forgotten corridor. But she wasn't doing that anymore – she was never alone this days. Either with her friends or with one of the million younger students she tutored, James couldn't quite remember when he had last seen her by herself. He was glad, though. Lily Evans was her old self again, and she hated his guts just as much as she had hated them before her parents' death. Or perhaps more.

He had obsessed over what had happened by the Lake after the Defence OWL all summer. Evans had been furious at him more times than he cared to remember, but he had never seen her as, well, as _bloody vexed_. She had called him every name in the book and another few before, but he had never heard her insult him with such fury, with such cruel honesty. She had called him a useless, selfish prick and a presumptuous, conceited tosser for years, but on that damned June afternoon she had said quite articulately what she truly thought of him. Yes, James thought, she hated him more than ever. On the bright sight, however, she also hated Severus Snape.

One thing seemed to elude him, nonetheless: since that day by the Lake and the beech tree, when Snape had called Evans a mudblood and James had dangled him by the ankle out of sheer boredom, James Potter and Lily Evans hadn't quarrelled – not once, not in the two full months of lessons since the beginning of the term. And that was saying something considering they had fought for the most of five consecutive years. James, however, did not realise this.

'Prongs, mate,' said Sirius from the table besides him 'you are _gawking._ You'll burn a hole through her skull if you stare any harder.' Remus sniggered.

'Shut up, Sirius.' James said dryly. From his treasured seat at the back of the class, next to the window facing the Black Lake, he had no way of seeing the peony-pink shadow that creeped onto Lily Evans's cheeks.

* * *

After Transfiguration, Marlene Macmillan found herself walking to the courtyard for recess on her own at the fastest pace she could muster. Faye had Muggle Studies and Lily had Ancient Runes, but she was glad to be by herself for break-time. She was furious.

She was going to murder her, Marlene thought. She plopped down on a stone bench next to the roofed gallery of the courtyard and propped her elbows on her knees, her chin resting on her hand. It was a chilly yet sunny day but she was unable to spot the beauty of the lake and the cliff before her; she was so irritated from listening to Crenshaw squeaking and shrieking and giggling in the corridor after their Transfiguration lesson, when Will had come to pick her up. She was perplexed every single person in that hallway had not lost their hearing from all her high-pitched crying. It was like a pig being slaughtered, the way she squealed and screeched and said "Oh, Willy, stop it!" while he tickled her tenderly. (Willy, for fuck's sake?) Did that daft dimbo ever shut up? She did not know a single person so utterly dim-witted, so annoyingly attention-seeking. Dim as night, that one was. To make matters worse, Marlene had seen Susan looking at her while she wriggled in Will's arms and she was sure she had not imagined the smugly pleased smile on the little shite's lips. Crenshaw was trying to provoke her; she was cruel enough to do something like that. She was so stupid, the obnoxious little pipsqueak. Yes, she was unarguably pretty and yes, she had a body that only Dorcas or Faye could outshine, and yes, she was a talented flirt, but she was just – so – bloody – stupid. Couldn't Will see it? A Flobberworm was sharper than Crenshaw. A bloody rock had deeper-rooted thoughts than his girlfriend. And not only was she uproariously silly, the insufferable slag, she was also plain mean. Marlene knew very few people who took as much pleasure in seeing other people crumbling. The widespread notion that evil, demonic teenage girls were habitually smart and witty was refuted by the mere existence of Susan Crenshaw and her pea-sized brain.

And Merlin and Agrippa and Circe, Will had laughed with her! He had actually taken the absolute nonsense that came out of her horrid mouth every single time she opened it for a sense of humour. Couldn't he tell she was not being funny but her very unintelligent self? Marlene wanted to choke her and then drop her off the Astronomy Tower for the Giant Squid to eat. Susan Crenshaw and her curly, long, jet-black hair and her awfully plucked eyebrows and her perennially blushed cheeks and her humongous ears and her ridiculous teeth and the angelical way her uniform fitted her and her million eyelashes that were charcoal black and not white blonde. 'Useless, bragging tart.' Marlene whispered.

Susan Crenshaw, when one first met her, gave the impression of being an absolutely pleasant girl with a gift for playing compliments. Only after further acquaintance did one spot the masterfully hidden jabs her flattery brought along. She was both demeaning and adulating in the very same sentence and Marlene despised her deeply for her two-faced wit – that and her thunderous stupidity. "I'm saying things about you that sound lovely but I'm actually being unnecessarily hurtful and you probably won't realise anyway" was what Marlene heard whenever the bitch spoke. And did the bitch love to speak around Marlene.

Marlene was sure Susan knew. The satisfied looks and the taunting little smiles and how every time Marlene walked into a room Susan threw herself, spread-armed, into Will; Susan surely knew. All those times she'd mentioned in her sugary, all too innocent voice how Will and Marlene were "such good friends, aren't you, Macmillan?" But Marlene was also certain Crenshaw wasn't as terribly brainless as to tell Will what she suspected, just as she hadn't been as terribly brainless as to protest to their friendship. Oh yes, Marlene thought as she tightened her Gryffindor scarf around her neck and dug her hands deeper inside her robe pockets, Will might be dating her but he still valued his friendship with her very highly. Why else would he ignore the glaring from his girlfriend every time they sat together in the common room, chatting and laughing, if not because he sincerely enjoyed her company? It was poor consolation but it was all she had to hold on to. Crenshaw didn't dare keep Will from being friends with Marlene.

'Hey, Lynne.' said Will as he scooted over next to her on the stone bench. The sudden appearance of his voice made her shiver for an instant. He was as tightly bundled in his cloak as she was, and his bare neck was red from the wind outside. She wondered how long he had been on the patio for and if he had heard her curse to herself, but if he had he didn't mention it. She turned around to face him and almost moaned in complaint. The clear sunlight caught in a very lovely glimmer in his dark blonde hair that looked so wonderful now that he wore it short – Merlin, she needed to stop thinking like that. He had a girlfriend to dwell on the way his shorter haircut made his square jaw look sexy.

'Hey.' she croaked.

'All right?' Will asked. Marlene nodded so he continued in a careful, comforting tone. 'That's good, I thought I saw you leaving Transfiguration all flustered up.'

'Nope.' Marlene answered. Will raised a gloved hand to his chest. She wondered why he was cold enough to wear gloves but not cold enough to put on a scarf. She then wondered if perhaps Will had given his scarf to Crenshaw and she suddenly found herself growing angry at him.

'It's touching that you open yourself with me like that, Marlene, really heart-warming. I'm glad you think of me as a trustworthy, understanding mate.' He hit her arm playfully with his elbow. She didn't smile.

'It's nothing, Willy.' Marlene snorted and she regretted the obvious dose of sarcasm in her voice immediately. He would certainly notice what she'd called him.

'Willy?' he asked, raising an eyebrow. Of course – he always noticed everything except perhaps how his girlfriend had the intellectual capabilities of a speck of dust.

'Doesn't your girlfriend call you that?' she said, turning her face away from him to look at the mirror surface of the lake. She wished she could shut up.

'Yeah, I believe so.' Will said confusedly. 'I just don't remember you ever calling me that before. You call me Will like everyone else does. Or Willemsworth if you're so mad you – '

'Oh Willemsworth, I'd forgotten! I'm _everyone else_! Silly me – won't happen again, you be sure of that.' She was sort of bellowing now and all she could think of was she had to be quiet but she knew it was too late for that now. She had already spoiled it and the students closer to them were beginning to hush down and stare.

'—when you're so mad at me you won't even tell me what I've done. Of course you are not everyone else, are you mental? Come off it, Lynnie, what's happened?' he asked in a firm voice. He had shifted his whole body to face her and had rested his hand on her shoulder. She could feel how he smelt of soap.

The buzz of the chatter of the other students in the courtyard was all she could focus on without going completely berserk. She hated herself quite a lot at the moment for being so bloody temperamental and hot-headed. Why was he there? He had Potions next, because she'd heard another Gryffindor in his year mention that they had Potions second thing that morning. He certainly should be down in the dungeons then. Had he skipped lessons to come and see what was wrong with her? Why had it mattered so much he wouldn't wait until lunch to find out why she'd hurried off after a class? She had an answer for her questions but it was too hopeful and it had been years since she'd decided not to think like that. The chatter around them carried on.

'It's nothing. Why are you here?'

'I've told you, I saw you leaving Transfiguration. Are you going to tell me what's happened, Lynnie?' Will asked. And then she cracked.

'Does she know you call me Lynnie?' she was screaming again and she was positive she now looked as if she'd lost her marbles for good. 'Crenshaw – does she fucking know you call me Lynnie?'

'Susie? What's Susan got to do with anything?' That about did it. The look on his eyes was so bewildered it only made Marlene more furious. He had to be kidding her.

'Well, she shouldn't care much because Susie's got her own nickname as well! Smashing!' she got up to her feet, began to walk away and then pivoted suddenly on her heel to face him one more time. 'If you can't realise what's wrong on your own, Willy dear, then it's no use for me to fucking tell you. Tell Susie I say hello.' And she walked away.

The next two days flashed by Marlene in a blur of restlessness. She did her absolute best not to run into Will or Crenshaw, but since she shared a fair share of her lessons with her and she couldn't possibly avoid him in the Gryffindor common room, her objective was far from being achieved. Even though all of Hogwarts had been whispering about how Marlene Macmillan had screamed at Will McKinnon about something to do with his girlfriend, Marlene only told Faye and Lily her side of what had happened with Will and the rest of the girls in their dormitory had been tactful enough to not bring it up– Marlene told Faye because she always told Faye everything and Lily because she knew a thing or two about wanting to avoid a particular boy after a nasty quarrel (regardless that Lily would rather have Flitch hang her by her ankles than admit she had ever gone out of her way to avoid Potter, because that would have meant making an effort regarding him, no matter the reason why, and Lily could just not have that) so both of her friends had been lovely and cooperative and done their best to keep Will and his girlfriend out of Marlene's path. The afternoon after she'd gone berserk at him in front of everyone in the courtyard, Will had tried to catch up with her in between lessons, but Lily had been quick enough to yell after him that he had long ago promised to explain to her exactly when and why had the Bludgers been introduced to the official Quidditch rulebook and if he'd please be so kind as to do it now, thank you, and Marlene had had time to scatter away and lose herself among the swarming students heading for Defence Against the Dark Arts classrooms. Faye had very accidentally commented at the very top of her gravelly voice, that very evening in the packed Gryffindor Common Room, whether Susan remembered that time in third year when seventh-year Gideon Prewett had stood her up in Hogsmeade because he was trying to convince Faye to snog him in a broom closet, which of course she had refused. Both the Dawlish twins had choked trying to hide their giggling at the sickly shade of purple that was Crenshaw's face.

On the third day, Marlene spent twenty minutes inside a girls' bathroom on the third floor in order to avoid Will, who'd she'd seen lurking the corridors with his eye out for her, so she was barely seconds ahead of the bell when she crossed the door into History of Magic. Professor Binns said nothing, of course, but still she remained at the entrance to the classroom, gobsmacked, immobile, looking at Lily Evans fixedly. Next to a sour-faced Lily, where she always sat for History of Magic, was Maittena Dawlish, smiling in satisfaction. Marlene scanned the room already knowing the answer, but still she felt anger hit her like a tidal wave when she found the only seat available to be next to Crenshaw. The vindictive, obnoxious, mind-fucking bitch.

'Oy, Wormy,' called Potter from his seat at the very right left end of the classroom. Even though Pettigrew was sitting right next to him, the whole classroom could hear him perfectly. 'would you mind going over there and sitting with Crenshaw? I need to speak with Macmillan here, you see, and it would be phenomenal if she could share desks with me for this lesson.'

'Why, Prongs, of course.' said Peter promptly, picking up his books and parchment and making his way to Crenshaw's desk. When she shot him a murderous glare, Pettigrew pretended to be surprised and raised his hand to cover his mouth. 'Oh dear, Crenshaw, you don't mind me sitting with you, do you? I'm sure Professor Binns could find me a seat elsewhere if you didn't want me here...'

'Sit, Pettigrew.' said Crenshaw irately and Marlene was suddenly aware that she was still standing there halfway between coming in and staying out, with her book bag dangling uncomfortably from her hand, so she hurried off and took a seat next to a grinning James Potter.

'What did you want to talk to me about?' she whispered. She could almost feel Lily glaring daggers at her from across the classroom. She didn't know whether having to withstand Maittena Dawlish or her chitchatting with Potter would cross her more.

'I thought you were quicker.' Potter chuckled 'I was just saving you from Crenshaw, that's all.'

'Excuse me?' said Marlene. She couldn't quite wrap her mind around what she'd just heard.

'Susan Crenshaw, Macmillan –she looks like she wants to bite your head off and I thought it would be nice of me to offer you a way out.'

'You – you switched Pettigrew with me so I wouldn't have to seat with Crenshaw?' James nodded at this. 'Why would you do that?'

'Because I happen to be very sympathetic to your current woes. I have looked just like you look right now quite a few times.' Potter said. Marlene didn't much like the sorrowful way in which he was smiling at her.

'And what do I look like, exactly, Potter?' she asked trying to keep her tone as steady as her tembling hands would allow her.

'You look like someone who fucked up with someone they fancy quite a lot. I have been there more times than you'd care to know – the only difference is that when I fuck up with a person I like, Evans doesn't follow me around the castle for an explanation like McKinnon does.' Potter whispered. His face was rather close to her now and Marlene could swear on her life that both Crenshaw's and Lily's eyes were glued to the both of them. 'I also happen to know because your little yelling showdown is common knowledge – every single person in this school is dying to know what it was all about. I just figured it out all by myself because, in all honesty, I'm brilliant.'

'Would it make any difference if I told you I don't fancy him?' she asked, and James smiled, shaking his head. Marlene observed that Potter also smelt like soap.

'No, it wouldn't. But I'll keep your secret.' he said. Marlene wanted to smash Lily's head in and yell at her for being mean to lovely, lovely, life-saving Potter.

'Now,' said James 'if you'd just stay close to me like that for a moment. I'm trying to figure out who, Crenshaw or Evans, look more distraught. Your friend Lily there looks like she'll blow up any second now.'

'Thank you, Potter.' Marlene said. He dismissed her with a friendly shrug. 'I'll pay you back for this one.'

'Oh, Macmillan, I'll make you keep your word.' he backed off away from her and turned on his seat to face the front of the classroom, where Binns was lecturing for no one to listen. Potter played with a fancy peacock-feather quill for a moment before whispering, this time even lower but remaining at a prudent distance from her face, 'Crenshaw doesn't know what it was all about, you know. Gwenog Jones told me at practice that she's livid at McKinnon for not telling her what it is that made you so cross. I believe you've got a chance there, Macmillan.'

'You know, Potter,' Marlene began. She knew that if Lily ever found out about what she was about to say she'd be as good as dead. 'I'm positive you've got a chance over there yourself.'

* * *

**July 29****th****, 1976**

**It was a summer day so hot it was uncomfortably sticky in the small English town of Godric's Hollow. The Potter family had gone to spend the day in a little cottage they owned on the outskirts of the village which had a little pond in the back yard and many tall, ancient willows and oaks that provided delicious pools of cool shadow. The Potters traditionally spent their summers in their beach house in Newquay, but Sirius's unexpected addition to the family and Andrew Potter's business for the ministry had caused them to delay their habitual departure to the seaside until at least August. On that particularly abrasive afternoon, Mr Potter had invited one of his friends from work, Seraphim McKinnon, to join them for tea. McKinnon had come with his wife, a slender witch of forty that had been quite close while at Hogwarts with one of Audra Potter's favourite cousins, and their eldest son, Will.**

**'You're friends with him, aren't you boys?' Andrew Potter asked his son and Sirius over breakfast before the family set out for Potter Cottage. 'He's a year above you in Hogwarts, I believe... They live rather nearby, one chimney on the Floo from the Dearborns'.'**

**'I play Quidditch with him, dad.' James had answered. He had always liked McKinnon.**

**So now James, Will and Sirius found themselves laying side by side on a moist patch of grass near the pond behind the cottage, their faces inclined slightly upwards in search for a nonexistent breeze. There was no wind cutting through the impenetrable heat, so their only consolation was the green and blue shadows the flock of trees provided. They had attempted to pass Will's beaten Quaffle on a pair of old, slow brooms the Potter's kept in one of the cottage's sheds, but they had become drenched with sweat and red in the face after mere seconds, so the boys had decided to lay down and give up to the heat while their parents drunk iced tea in a lawn table fifty yards away from them. Sirius's rhythmical snores were the only noise around except for the soft hooting of the birds and the quiet tingling of the water.**

**'You know,' said Will, and James made an ungodly effort to move his overheated, tacky face over his shoulder towards where Will lay, between himself and a dozed-off Sirius Black 'I'm dating Susan Crenshaw.'**

**'Crenshaw?' asked James. Somehow that didn't sound correct to his hazy brain.**

**'Yes. You sound surprised.' said Will. His hands were resting on his forehead and he was gazing absentmindedly into the canopy of foliage that the gargantuan, millennial willow tree casted above them. **

**'I don't know. I just reckoned it was Macmillan you were dating.' answered James groggily.**

**'Marlene?' Will demanded. His voice was ever so slightly drier. 'Why would you say that?'**

**'Because I've known her for a long time and I've know you for a long time and I just thought the two of you fancied each other.' James was surprised by how inarticulate he sounded. The impassive sun appeared to have melted his wits.**

**'Marlene doesn't fancy me. We're friends. She can't fancy me, can she? She doesn't.' McKinnon mumbled. Sirius grunted in his sleep and turned onto his side, away from Will.**

**'But you fancy her.' James insisted. He was feeling rather sleepy now.**

**'No, Potter, I ... – I don't ****_really_****... – It's not like she'd ever – I fancy Susan, Potter.' Will said. **

**'I like Macmillan better.' Sirius croaked from his hunched position. 'Crenshaw's fit, though. But I like Macmillan better.'**

**'Crenshaw's so ... so ... so ****_whimsical._****' James managed to say before falling asleep.**

**'Perhaps. But Marlene would never like me; we all know that, right?' Will asked for no one to listen.**


End file.
